Children as young as 3 are appearing before immigration judges as the federal legal-services system serving unaccompanied minors undergoes a major transition.
A 3-year-old was playing with a microphone.
An older child was sitting quietly at a table. Another appeared barely tall enough to see over the courtroom furniture.
And a 13-year-old boy from Honduras cried after an immigration judge ordered him removed from the United States.
These scenes came from a recent immigration court hearing in Harlingen, Texas, where 25 children appeared before an immigration judge. CNN reported that several children did not have attorneys, including an 8-year-old, a 9-year-old and the 13-year-old who was ordered removed. The 3-year-old playing with the microphone did have an attorney, who appeared remotely.
The adults sitting near some of the children were caseworkers, not lawyers representing them in court.
Because the question raised by what happened in that Texas courtroom is bigger than one hearing or one child:
When children are placed inside a legal system that can determine whether they remain in the United States, who is helping them understand what happens next?
Immigration proceedings are civil proceedings, not criminal prosecutions.
But the consequences can still be enormous.
An immigration judge determines whether a person is removable and whether that person qualifies for a form of relief or protection under immigration law.
The federal government does not generally provide a government-appointed attorney in immigration court.
The Executive Office for Immigration Review, or EOIR, says people in immigration proceedings may represent themselves or obtain an attorney or accredited representative, but representation is provided at no cost to the government rather than through a government-appointed lawyer. EOIR also maintains a list of pro bono legal-service providers.
That structure becomes especially consequential when the person appearing before the judge is a child.
EOIR’s own policy recognizes the vulnerability of children in immigration proceedings. Its juvenile guidance says immigration judges cannot appoint a practitioner or guardian ad litem for an unaccompanied juvenile, while encouraging the use of pro bono legal resources. The agency also allows courtroom modifications for juveniles, including permitting toys or pillows and allowing a child to testify outside the witness stand next to a trusted adult or friend.
The system therefore recognizes that children require special consideration.
But recognition of vulnerability is not the same thing as guaranteed representation.
That distinction was visible in Harlingen.
CNN reported that the 13-year-old from Honduras did not have an attorney when he was ordered removed. After hearing the decision, he cried and said, “I have no one. I have nothing,” referring to his family and his fear of returning to Honduras.
An 8-year-old and a 9-year-old also appeared without attorneys, according to CNN’s reporting.
The 3-year-old presented a different picture. He had an attorney appearing remotely while he played with the microphone and sang during the proceeding.
That difference is important because it prevents an easy conclusion.
The problem is not simply that children have no lawyers; some do.
The problem is that children are appearing in immigration court under a system in which legal representation is not automatically provided by the government and some children are appearing without attorneys in proceedings that can have life-changing consequences.
The federal system that has supported legal services for unaccompanied children underwent a major contracting transition in 2026.
The previous nationwide legal-services contract expired July 31, 2026. The Office of Refugee Resettlement subsequently moved to bridge contracts while pursuing a longer-term procurement process.
That transition does not establish that the contract change caused any particular child to appear without a lawyer.
But it does establish that the legal-services infrastructure supporting unaccompanied children has been changing at the same time children continue to appear in immigration court.
CNN reported that the administration subsequently entered another contract, while sources familiar with the system told the network that legal providers still faced significant staffing needs. HHS told CNN that the Office of Refugee Resettlement remained committed to ensuring that unaccompanied children have legal representation.
The important distinction is between a system in transition and a proven causal explanation for an individual child’s lack of representation.
The available evidence supports the first.
It does not, by itself, prove the second.
The courtroom scenes also sit inside a much larger immigration-court workload.
EOIR’s published statistics show a substantial backlog of unaccompanied children’s cases. Its FY2026 second-quarter table reported 27,647 pending UAC cases, including 16,150 cases that had been pending for more than five years. EOIR cautions that its statistics are subject to change as case information is updated.
That means the question is not limited to what happens during one hearing.
A child can enter the immigration court system and remain there for months or years.
For families trying to understand the process, the difference between having a lawyer, finding one later, or navigating proceedings without one can become part of the practical reality of the case.
California is part of the story
The Texas courtroom is not a California courtroom.
But California is deeply connected to the national immigration-court system, including through immigration courts serving children and families in communities throughout the state.
That makes the federal transition relevant to California even when the most visible reporting is coming from Texas.
For Californians trying to understand the broader system, you can read about immigration judges and the deportation backlog, as well as mass dismissals involving immigration judges.
Those developments matter because the legal-services question does not exist in isolation.
Children and families are entering an immigration-court system that is simultaneously dealing with a large caseload, changes in judicial staffing and continuing changes in how cases move through the courts.
We have also shed some light on the unprecedented number of immigration-court cases, providing another piece of the larger picture.
What the federal transition does and does not show
The evidence supports several facts.
FACT: Children are appearing in immigration court without attorneys in at least some cases. CNN documented that firsthand in Harlingen, including an 8-year-old, a 9-year-old and a 13-year-old.
FACT: Not every child appearing in that hearing lacked representation. CNN reported that the 3-year-old had an attorney appearing remotely.
FACT: EOIR does not provide government-appointed attorneys in immigration proceedings. People may obtain private or pro bono representation instead.
FACT: EOIR’s juvenile policy specifically recognizes the vulnerability of children and encourages pro bono representation for unaccompanied juveniles.
FACT: The federal legal-services contracting structure serving unaccompanied children changed in 2026.
FACT: A large number of UAC cases remain pending in immigration court.
But the evidence cannot tell us, without case-level analysis, exactly why an individual child appeared without counsel.
It also cannot establish that every child affected by the federal contracting transition will remain without representation.
Those questions require more detailed case and provider-level data.
The people in the courtroom are still children
That may be the simplest fact in the entire story.
A courtroom can turn a child into a respondent, a case number or a pending immigration case.
But the child remains a child.
EOIR’s own policies acknowledge this reality by creating specialized juvenile procedures and allowing judges to make accommodations for young respondents.
Yet those accommodations do not answer the separate question of who explains the legal process to the child, investigates possible forms of relief, prepares the case and advocates for the child’s position before the judge.
That is the role legal representation is designed to play.
And in immigration court, obtaining that representation is generally the responsibility of the person in the proceeding rather than something automatically supplied by the government.
For a child, that distinction can be difficult to comprehend.
For the legal system, it is fundamental.
The immediate question for California is not simply whether the national legal-services system has changed.
It is whether children appearing in California immigration courts are receiving meaningful access to the legal assistance the system expects them to obtain.
That deserves closer examination at the local level.
A California-focused review should examine:
- How many children currently have pending cases in California immigration courts.
- How many are represented by attorneys or accredited representatives.
- Where representation gaps are occurring.
- Whether providers are experiencing staffing or capacity problems following the federal contracting transition.
- How quickly children’s cases are being scheduled and completed.
- Whether children with potentially significant forms of relief are receiving legal assistance early enough to pursue them.
Those are measurable questions.
They can move the discussion beyond a single courtroom and toward a clearer picture of what is happening to children in California’s immigration-court system.
What we know and what we don’t
What happened in Harlingen is difficult to ignore.
Children appeared before an immigration judge.
Some had lawyers.
Some did not.
One 13-year-old was ordered removed and cried afterward. A 3-year-old had an attorney appearing remotely while he played with the courtroom microphone. Caseworkers were present to supervise children, but they were not serving as their legal representatives.
At the same time, the federal legal-services system supporting unaccompanied children has been undergoing a significant transition, while thousands of children’s cases remain pending in immigration court.
The evidence does not justify reducing all of this to one cause.
But it does justify asking a basic question:
When a child walks into immigration court, who is making sure that child understands what is happening and has a meaningful opportunity to respond?
A 3-year-old may not understand why a judge is asking questions.
A 13-year-old may understand exactly what it means to be told he could be sent away from his family.
Either way, the legal system is asking children to enter the room.
The question is whether it is giving them enough help to understand what happens once they do.
